


Desert Nectar

by Anonymous



Category: Desert Peach
Genre: M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23507554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Relationships: Pfirsich Rommel/Udo Schmidt
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020, anonymous





	Desert Nectar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aquatics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquatics/gifts).



Water drips in the darkness. The sound weaves through Pfirsich’s breathing, a pattern that varies just enough to keep Udo’s attention fixated on it. 

Four hours and Pfirsich hasn’t woken. Four hours and Udo has done nothing but wait. 

Four hours and his stomach is growling, his skin is electrified, his body aches like he’s taken a sickness. The taste of blood lingers on his mouth, between his teeth, and his hands are tacky with it. 

Pfirsich won’t approve of what he did. Not at all. Udo spares a moment to be concerned about that, the twisted fog in his head clearing enough to make him gag on the blood in his mouth.

Behind the bars someone is laughing, and he would kill them if he could. Claw the life out of them with his bare hands, feed the horrible hunger inside him with that. Feed it with anything that isn’t Pfirsich, really.

“-- _ la chienne rose?” _ followed by a low laugh and the sound of someone striking a match.

Udo looks up, feeling like he’s rattling inside his bones. The match’s light burns his eyes, too bright. Three men light their cigarettes from the same flame, and Udo’s teeth grind against each other so hard that they feel like they might shatter. The smoke doesn’t mask Pfirsich’s cologne, too fancy by far for a rotten hole like this one.

His tongue slides against the back of his teeth, the taste of blood almost gone. The one he bit isn’t watching, isn’t lighting up a cigarette. Petty, but Udo rather hopes it’s because he’s dead.

They’re talking about Pfirsich, he knows that with the same sick kind of certainty that whatever they have planned is well outside the rules Pfirsich has been plastering in place. 

Makes sense, doesn’t it. No matter how Pfirsich tries to make it not one, it’s still a war, isn’t it? Wars aren’t much more than excuses to be monsters in the name of something bigger than personal sadism.

Pfirsich’s breathing shifts, and his hand twitches, the side of his thumb brushing against Udo’s strung-tight thigh. It feels like a tank mine going off under his skin, and Udo jerks--flinches--away like he’s been shot.

They forced something down his throat when they’d caught him. Pfirsich had been shot, half-conscious even before they’d beaten him into silence. And Udo--the butt of a gun collided with his jaw, and the bright stars in his head hadn’t cleared until he’d woken in the back of a truck, jolting over the fucking potholes as two men pried open his jaw and poured something syrup-sweet down it. 

That’s when he’d bitten the bastard.

Udo’s dizziness hadn’t cleared so much as transformed, and whatever they’d drugged him with--Pfirsich made a faint, barely audible sound. Udo shifts away, a strange and fresh madness of his achingly hard. 

The French notice, and Udo feels their attention sharpen to him like sharks that have scented blood. Whatever they gave him, they are anticipating its effects.

Pfirsich sighs, and it sounds soft and sweet to him, and it shouldn’t. It  _ really  _ shouldn’t. Udo stares at the guards, watches money rapidly changing hands. He wants tear Pfirsich’s clothes off, and that--fuck oh but fuck, that he  _ really  _ shouldn’t want. 

Pfirsich stirs restlessly, uncomfortable on the packed dirt floor, and Udo realizes, with a strong sense of impending doom, that Pfirsich is waking up on him. The thought follows, natural in speed if not content, that it’d be easier to strip Pfirsich if he was awake. Easier to peel him out of the clothes that always sat so nicely on him, easier to touch and--

Udo’s face feels like it’s burning. Pfirsich’s eyes slit open, the faintest glint of light visible between his lashes. Long lashes. He’s awake.

The guards laughter makes him realize that his fingers have curled around Pfirsich’s throat, still sticky with blood and so tense that the tendons are rising from the back of his hand like bridge cables.

Pfirsich swallows, his throat rubbing lewdly against Udo’s palm. A splinter in Udo’s composure saws through him, and his blood tacky fingers slide up to Pfirsich’s mouth, sliding between slack lips before Pfirsich can call him darling. Pfirsich’s mouth is hot and wet around his fingers, slick as grease.

Udo feels half-there, half-gone when he fucks his fingers into Pfirsich’s slack mouth, only the flare of Pfirsich’s nostrils revealing his disgust. Somehow Pfirsich is trusting him--fucking idiot. Fuck. 

_ Fuck, _ Udo thinks again, buttons coming undone under the fingers of his other hand at the guards laugh. Pfirsich’s tongue flicks against his fingers, and a jolt of fire rolls aching hot up his wrist and through his elbow, and smoulders under his skin.

Pfirsich takes a shuddering, uncertain breath. Udo inches closer, drags his fingers free and draws a line in spit and blood from the corner of Pfirsich’s tender lips to the sharp edge of his jaw. Udo wants with a fierce and sick kind of longing, a rawness he can’t keep contained. He shouldn’t. He knows so damn well that he shouldn’t.

He does anyway. Pulls Pfirsich’s belt open, slides his hand inside while laughter rings in his ears. Pfirsich stops faking unconsciousness, his eyes wide and--scared? No, Udo’s just thinking that he should be. Pfirsich looks at him, his pupils huge and slightly different sizes, then glances toward the chattering laughter. “Oh.  _ Oh.” _

He’s not saying it because Udo’s got his hand on his cock, dragging a half-hearted hardness out of Pfirsich’s reluctant body. He’s got some stupid idea on why Udo’s doing this, of course he does. Some stupid thing. _ Fuck the entire world,  _ Udo thinks, utterly exhausted inside the fire trying to devour him. 

“It’s all right,” Pfirsich reassures him, kindness that Udo in no way deserves. His face is tense, and he’s probably hurting still, head pounding like a kettle bell. He doesn’t push Udo’s disgusting hands away, just lies there and lets him--

Pfirsich  _ lets _ him do it. Comes in his hand with a shudder and Udo follows his leader in this, too.

The fog and ache clear fast, and leave Udo with nothing to his name but regrets.


End file.
